into the woods
Dec. 23rd, 2014 08:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
do_what_thou_wiltAuryn takes a few days to settle in. To get a roof, however fleeting, over his head; unpack, cast some basic wards over the space he's claimed as his own. To soak up the feel and the history in even the timber and architecture of this town. But it's been an intent road that led him here, unlike some of the other places he's visited in his life.
It doesn't take him a long time to start hearing names he recognizes, to start hearing the way they're said by one or another person. It doesn't take much effort to inquire -- tourist-like and all naivete and wide eyes -- as to the rumors about this town, to drop names he's had pressed into his mind by witches that sent him on his way here. Names like Coombs and Grimhilde, to say things like "curses" and "evil" and to see what people say when they're asked about the truth. It takes even less effort to let them talk, wind stories and tales and histories that build on each other. A question here, an encouragement there. There isn't a trick to it except saying very little about himself.
Some tense at the question, or blow the whole thing off, and he notes that too.
The truth is, as usual, what you make of it. But there are overlaps, and directions that repeat themselves. And it's that, and needing some solitude, that finds Auryn wandering purposefully into the woods north by northeast.
It's been unseasonably warm, grey and damp these last few days, and the gabardine jacket he's wearing over a hoodie, dark jeans tucked into boots is almost too warm as he carefully traces his way up following the trace of trees. He lets himself adjust as the lack of town noise gives in to dense, more subtle cues: birds taking off from trees, the whisper of bare branches against a gray sky, or the shuffle of evergreen: the subtle presence of a fox or stray dog alerting itself in the back of his mind and the dense feel of the magic in the air around here.
He's wandering without thinking, intentionally putting thought out of his head, so much so that when he realizes it's gotten colder, darker, he can't tell how quickly that happened. He raises his head at the sudden distinct silence and stills himself for a moment. A murder of crows -- or ravens? -- takes off from a far off tree and circles, and he turns toward their watching place, holding his right hand open and passive to them before following curiously.
[Open! Auryn's in search of Grimhilde Manor, but choose your own adventure. Does he find it? Does someone else find him first? Feel free to bump into him in the woods, or maybe he get s turned around in a giant circle by the ravens and ends up back in town. A great time to meet him.]
It doesn't take him a long time to start hearing names he recognizes, to start hearing the way they're said by one or another person. It doesn't take much effort to inquire -- tourist-like and all naivete and wide eyes -- as to the rumors about this town, to drop names he's had pressed into his mind by witches that sent him on his way here. Names like Coombs and Grimhilde, to say things like "curses" and "evil" and to see what people say when they're asked about the truth. It takes even less effort to let them talk, wind stories and tales and histories that build on each other. A question here, an encouragement there. There isn't a trick to it except saying very little about himself.
Some tense at the question, or blow the whole thing off, and he notes that too.
The truth is, as usual, what you make of it. But there are overlaps, and directions that repeat themselves. And it's that, and needing some solitude, that finds Auryn wandering purposefully into the woods north by northeast.
It's been unseasonably warm, grey and damp these last few days, and the gabardine jacket he's wearing over a hoodie, dark jeans tucked into boots is almost too warm as he carefully traces his way up following the trace of trees. He lets himself adjust as the lack of town noise gives in to dense, more subtle cues: birds taking off from trees, the whisper of bare branches against a gray sky, or the shuffle of evergreen: the subtle presence of a fox or stray dog alerting itself in the back of his mind and the dense feel of the magic in the air around here.
He's wandering without thinking, intentionally putting thought out of his head, so much so that when he realizes it's gotten colder, darker, he can't tell how quickly that happened. He raises his head at the sudden distinct silence and stills himself for a moment. A murder of crows -- or ravens? -- takes off from a far off tree and circles, and he turns toward their watching place, holding his right hand open and passive to them before following curiously.
[Open! Auryn's in search of Grimhilde Manor, but choose your own adventure. Does he find it? Does someone else find him first? Feel free to bump into him in the woods, or maybe he get s turned around in a giant circle by the ravens and ends up back in town. A great time to meet him.]
no subject
Date: 2014-12-26 02:47 pm (UTC)He's answered with more honesty than he grants most people but it's still surprising when the Sphinx purrs, earth-rumbling and comforting. If only because he's not used to who he is being taken without a fight.
Auryn greets Nerium with a respectful incline of his head and a curious look. She's beautiful, in a sort of pre-raphaelite way, and younger than he'd expected, though that isn't necessarily real. "The truth. Your reputation precedes you. But humans like their stories."
"Do you test all your visitors?"
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Date: 2014-12-27 02:26 am (UTC)"I believed it my family with the reputation. If you seek them, I fear I am the last remaining. But I ensure you, I carry the way of the Grimhildes with all of my being."
She smiles, a slow uptick of the corners of her mouth, and turns towards the mansion for him to follow her.
"Most, yes. Those who trespass. Those who I do not know. Others come bearing gifts of great sacrifice for safe passage. You may follow."
As Nerium makes her way back to the manor, great stone stairs rise up from the ground itself, leading to a great door that had not been seen before. "And what do you bring me, Auryn Conner?"
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Date: 2014-12-27 11:49 pm (UTC)"Is that something to fear?" he asks with a small smile and a teasing tilt of his head. He doesn't doubt what she says about upholding her family way. Her words belie her demeanor -- proud and a little cold. She has the skills to back it up. He doesn't know, yet, who she really is, which parts of the reputation of her family are actually the way of the Grimhildes, which part of that way is actually her way -- that's what he's interested in, her opinions and emotions, what impassions her -- not the beliefs she's supposed to hold.
"Thank you." Auryn follows, watching the stone stairs appear elegantly. He thinks, but doesn't say, that her policy of demanding prowess or payment speaks of fear, a little bit. But he understands that fear. His just takes the form of aggressively demanding recognition. "Just myself," he says. "My abilities." He opens his hand to reveal a dogbane stem he'd plucked while first entering the woods, pulled from his pocket, and coaxes a bloom out of the winter-withered bud. After a moment of concentration it transforms into its cousin: her namesake, a slightly wider whiter flower.
"And hopefully, interesting conversation," he adds as she reaches the door. "As I think you might have all the material goods you can stand in this place all by yourself, but maybe a lack of questions."
no subject
Date: 2014-12-28 02:54 am (UTC)He is cocky, but not with the same egotistical ignorance as most. His seems to come more from a place of interest, of readiness to face what's ahead. Of knowing. It is something she can respect. Or at the very least tolerate.
"Though you should know, my ravens are those who failed to assess their situations properly."
The stairs continue to rise, nearly as high as the manor itself, and as they climb, the manor too grows. The first entrance was an illusion. They approach and it fades, and the stairs continue to climb. Finally they reach a stone archway, and a great green door beneath.
"I should like to see more of your abilities. You should quite promising work in the labyrinth. I-" She stops short as he brings the flower to creation from the wood. It is not the magic that makes her pause, and her eyes flicker a shade softer as it blooms - but the clear personal touch. The gifts she's given typically contain great sacrifice or power. But this is one of delicacy and beauty. Nerium has never been given a flower before.
"The flower is beautiful." Her momentary softness is lulled by his assertion, as the door pushes open to a great stone hall, lit of levitating candles. She responds with the coldness of winter instead. "But I assure you, there is nothing here I lack. You may enter, if you wish."
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Date: 2014-12-28 04:51 am (UTC)Auryn catches the momentary soft surprise in her eyes at the oleander flower, the slight drop in the facade, and he can't help but feel a little pleased. It intrigues him and he'd like to prompt that again. The gap in the wall of thorns, so to speak. "I'd be glad to have the opportunity," he tells her, honestly.
She goes very cold very quickly at the suggestion that she might be missing out on conversation, which makes him think he's right. "Thank you," he says, taking in the great hall. It's more lavish than anywhere he's ever been, the floating candles eerily lovely and a bit fantastical even to him. The whole place faintly vibrates of power. "This place is beautiful," he says. He's not particularly impressed by wealth, but he can't deny the aesthetics.
"I've been looking, for a long time, for a place that I could practice my magic openly, and for others like me who believe I should be able to." he begins as way of introduction as they walk. "That search brought me to Siren Cove. I don't know if it lives up to the hype, but I can see why the stories about this place and its families exist."
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Date: 2014-12-29 05:01 am (UTC)Nerium leads a few steps in front of him, so that he cannot see the flicker of smile at his compliment. The hall is a place of magnificence, speaking of ancient beauty, and stained glass mosaics at its top depict scenes of great deities and demons and fantasy realms. In the dancing candle light, they appear alive, in motion.
She veers off to the right, leading him through a small stone archway and into the kitchen. It is much homier than the great hallway, filled with herbs and hanging carcasses of freshly prepared meats, fermenting cheeses, and musty books. In great contrast, she has lined several canisters of different hot chocolates, and a box of holiday peppermint bark. It is ill-fitting and she places an obscurement charm in hopes that he has not seen it.
"May I get you something? Chicken and figs, perhaps? Some tea?" Her demeanor has softened, and there's an air of lightness in her steps and movements around the kitchen now. Perhaps this visitor has been long sought. One who shares her views. Sees magic for what it truly is.
"The witches of this town are all too pleased to assimilate. As if magic is to be hidden and kept behind closed doors. Siren Cove was once a place of great power and protection for magic kind. My great great aunt herself led it into a golden era."
She calls forth china cups and levitates a kettle to pour tea for the both of them without waiting for him to accept. It is of dried rose petals, wild oranges, and hybrid herbs of her own design.
"If what you say is true, you will be granted safe passage here. And of what is your personal magic?"
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Date: 2014-12-30 01:11 am (UTC)His mother wasn't a witch like he is one, but she was devoted to a kind of magic nonetheless, and though his memories of his childhood with his parents seem dreamlike, there are things he remembers. Books everywhere; herbs always hanging in the kitchen and by the doors, mason jars high on a shelf he couldn't reach. There's something of that to this, albeit more castle-like kitchen.
Some tin bright with holiday colors catches his eye, but when he looks back for it it's gone, as though it was never there, and he eyes the place he thought it was with some suspicion and slight amusement, glancing at Nerium and watching her settle in. She's at home here, and her cold demeanor has lessened, just a little, and he finds himself relaxing a little.
He nods at her words, frowning. "That's what I was afraid of." That's exactly the feeling he'd gotten from this place. From every place he's been, but here he'd expected something different. And perhaps once upon a time it would have been something different, if it's true that her great-great aunt had as much effect as she says.
Auryn doesn't have a chance to decline tea or make an effort at it; she's already pouring some from a teapot. It smells wonderful and he says as much, nodding in thanks.
"If anything, you'll find I'm usually too honest," he tells her with a small smile. "My magic is -- mostly self-discovered," he decides. He looks into the tea for a moment. "I was taken from my parents when I was young," he admits. It's slightly more than he'd admit to most strangers this early, but it's important in knowing why he feels as strongly as he does, and he thinks Nerium is on his side, here. "It was called -- I was told -- that they weren't proper caregivers. I wasn't a stupid child. Our community was conservative and afraid and they needed a way to punish transgression." His voice goes hard, and he pulls himself back into control, taking a sip of tea. "Anything formal I know, I know from them. I learned the rest when it came to me, from practicing on my own, trying new things in darkness and hidden away where no one could stop me. I'm just about done with hiding."
He holds open his hand. "As near as I can tell, what I can do is affect structure. Fire's easy. Creating heat, persuading molecules to move faster and carbon to burn." He finds the dust motes in the air, pulls them together, lights them up in a small flicker that bursts from his palm. "But I've gotten good at persuasion." He asks the fire to freeze, and it stops and hardens before he disintegrates it. "And at sensing the forces I'm reaching for. It's something that I'm part of, and I want to learn how to channel that."
He realizes he's rambling -- it's been so long since he had someone who understood these things, who agreed with his standpoint. "You'll regret asking me to talk about it," he jokes, and takes another sip of tea.
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Date: 2015-01-02 11:04 pm (UTC)There are not many who take Nerium by surprise. Admittedly, they have not much opportunity, her orbs are windows into the very souls of Siren Cove - and it is her gift to read them and to transcribe the winds of change and energies that surround this town. She knows most here better than they know themselves, she would wager. But Auryn is new. She knows a name, she can feel the crackle of energy and deep wells of magic he carries with him. But who he is is a story she has yet to crack the spine of.
The more he tells the more she wishes to know. And she finds his words luring her own. Speaking words she rarely reveals. Once the tea is poured she leads him from the kitchen down a long and narrow stone corridor. It is not so ornate as the main foyer, but it too is lit by levitating candles dancing shadows along the walls.
"My mother was taken from me when I was young. By the great and wicked deities of chaos, perhaps. But she was a strong swimmer and as I grow older I find it difficult to believe she of such power was lost by a drowning."
At the end of the corridor is the central-most seating room, perfectly round at the base of a tower, ceiling several stories high, deep green sofas with mahogany legs carved into gargoyles sit in the center. With the raise of her arms, Nerium ignites a fireplace set into the backwall.
"What was done to you is an irredeemable atrocity. These are the horrors witches are faced with today. We are the great powers. We were the first, children of the moon, long before the mundanes were even conceived. And now the humans seek to undo us. Condemn us and chain us with their fear. Most in this town no nothing of their true natures and do not wish to hear it. And it is a town far more kind to powered-beings here than most.
"Your honesty is most valued here. I assure you, deception will not pass freely." She takes a seat in a highbacked chair, the wood frame carved into snakeheads above her, and gestures for him to sit himself.
His flame reflects in her dark eyes, and as he disintegrates it, they go large, twinkling with excitement. She's not seen power like this. So effortless. To do so self-taught. He is clearly a force to know.
"Much power is borne in the darkness." Her lips flicker to a smile. "If you wish to learn more, to discover and learn the great magics beyond just yourself, perhaps the great goddesses have brought you to me."
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Date: 2015-01-05 08:17 pm (UTC)Auryn can tell that she's not just humoring his speech and it soothes the impulse to keep his secrets safe. He follows her down to the corridor, darker and plainer but all lit by the floating candles.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he says, looking at her with more understanding, knowing all too well how earth-shattering that loss can feel when you're young. Or later, maybe, but he's never had the opportunity to find that out. "Anyone to do that intentionally would have to have great power themselves, to contend with someone that powerful." Before he finishes saying it, he realizes that's a possibility -- from what has been said about the Grimhildes in town, from what Nerium has said. Witch communities are so small now that the idea of warring within one seems nonsensical to him, but there are many reasons to vie for power, and he can imagine not everyone shares their beliefs.
Her words as she ignites the fire in front of him bolster him, but he turns to her with a raised eyebrow as she finishes. "My mother was what you call a mundane," he reminds her, his voice going very slightly hard with defense. If she presses him, Auryn has to admit that his mother is the exception, rather than the rule to humans. Those that he's socialized with or been forced to have called him a freak, been afraid of him and his parents, or prized, fetishized him only for the novelty and the chance at rebellion. He's certainly not going to make generalizations about the kindness of humans. But he remembers their house. His mother loved him and his father and was in no way subservient to their needs. And his father respected and honored her beliefs, though he could have mocked them or handwaved them for his own tangible power. They worked together as a family. Auryn doesn't remember much of them, but he remembers that.
"You're right," he concedes, sitting down, "humans are guided by fear. They chain themselves with it as much as they do us. We could all live freely --" he shakes his head and looks up at her. "You value my honesty," he says. "Then believe, in honesty, I want our freedom. I don't think that requires we dismiss anyone else. I don't think it would be wise. But they've dismissed us for too long."
He shows her his powers and watches her eyes fix on the flame, go wide with uncontrolled excitement, and it makes him smile a little, relaxing as he prompts a good response. "Perhaps," he agrees. He doesn't believe in great deities as much as some others, but who can say what fate has in store. "Is that something you can teach me?" he raises an eyebrow.
[OOC: SO MUCH OVERLAP, hope this made sense to you!]